“Who is not coming?” asked Nastasia, appearing out of the mist behind Zoë.
After her came Joy and then Sigfried with Valerie taking up the rear. Joy looked smug. Rachel recalled that Siggy had been between Zoë and Valerie the last time they had appeared. Apparently, Joy had maneuvered things to her advantage, as now she, rather than Zoë, held the hand of the handsome boy.
“Aperahama Whetu.” Zoë pointed at the silver sandals on her feet. “The Maori shaman who made my dream-walking shoes. He’s supposed to come examine the wards around Roanoke, to protect us from stuff like what happened to you, Princess, when that hot guy with the smoky wings…what was his name…snuck into your dream.”
“Lightflinger,” stated Sigfried.
“Lightflinger, whatever.” Zoë shrugged. “Rachel was afraid that any precautions Whetu put in against dream attacks might stop us from coming up here.”
“None of which will matter if the dean confiscates your sandals.” Valerie gave an exaggerated sigh. “It’s bad business, turning ourselves in, but I had to tell them something so that they’d restore my father. Couldn’t keep him as a goose forever. It didn’t suit him. Sorry.”
Zoë shrugged again. “Losing my sandals would suck.”
“I don’t think they’ll take them,” Joy said cheerily, swinging both Nastasia’s and Siggy’s hands as she spoke. “My sisters told me some crazy stories about things that happen here. School policy seems to be pretty hands off when it comes to private talismans and such. And with experimentation. Hope’s freshman year, two boys in her class blew up the forest behind Roanoke Hall. Sorcery still doesn’t work properly there—to this day, it’s all scrubby, and they can’t use even the most basic cantrips to get the trees to grow. Forget expelling them. The school didn’t even forbid those boys from performing more experiments.”
“They probably wanted to know how to repeat the effect that stops sorcery,” said Sigfried. “I would want to know that.”
Rachel said slowly, “I wonder if it’s because of the Terrible Years.”
“When those villains took over the school?” asked Valerie.
“And nearly the world,” quipped Zoë.
Valerie continued, “How exactly would that apply?”
Rachel blinked. Calling the Terrible Five those villains struck her as strange. It was like hearing someone refer to Hitler as some dictator.
She replied, “What saved the day and allowed the YSL to overthrow the Terrible Five was things like personal talismans and unusual sorcery they learned by experimenting—James Darling and the others. I bet the school decided it was better to let the students take risks than to lose an entire generation to evil.”
“That’s…so weird.” Valerie shivered. “No mundane school would ever allow stuff like this. In my hometown, you can’t even bring chapstick to school. In elementary school, I got suspended twice for pretending I had a gun.”
“They outlawed pretend weapons?” Siggy gawked at her as if she had sprouted hot-pink beans from her ears. “We were not allowed television, and we had to eat bread and water nearly every other day. But even the orphanage wasn’t that cruel!”
“That’s modern America for you,” muttered Valerie.
“Maybe they were afraid you’d conjure guns.” Joy’s expression was sweet and sincere. “Weapons like that don’t work here, but if they did, I bet our tutors would worry about that, too.”
Valerie stared at Joy.
“What?”
“Mundanes don’t have conjuring. That’s why we’re mundanes.”
“Oh.” Joy’s face grew pink. “Right.”
“What happened just now?” Rachel asked eagerly. “When you all disappeared?”
“Experiment Three was a failure,” drawled Zoë. “When the bag with your sleeping body in it came into dreamland, we all fell out. O’Keefe’s fat butt landed on my hand. Still hurts.”
“Hey!” Joy objected. “Look who’s talking!” The two girls glared at each other good-naturedly. Joy stuck out her tongue.
“Oh, that’s too bad!” exclaimed Rachel, “I had so hoped that plan would work.”
“Yeah,” Valerie sighed. “It would have been really convenient. Then all we would have needed was a bedazzle spell and a kenomanced bag, and we could have gone anywhere.”
“We left Lucky guarding my purse, with your body asleep inside,” explained Nastasia.
Valerie paused and looked around. “You know, everything looks…”
“Woodsy? Chartreuse?” Zoë offered, urging her to continue. “Zebra-polka dotted?”
“Crisp,” Valerie said. “Like it’s in focus. Joy’s room was blurry and constantly in motion. Nothing has changed since we got here.”
Nastasia looked left and right. “You are right.”
Zoë was also looking around and frowning. “This is your dream, Rachel, the meadow. The unicorn. The flying boats.”
“Those are star ships,” Rachel corrected her.
“What?” Zoë looked up, puzzled.
“They’re ships that fly among the stars.” Rachel’s voice faltered. “Isn’t that what a star ship looks like?”
The others started chuckling, except for Nastasia.
“Good grief, Griffin,” drawled Zoë. “Only you would mistake a galleon for a rocket.”
Valerie glanced at the sailing ships in the sky and then at the crisp, clear surrounding landscape. “But what is making everything look so different this time?”
Rachel’s lips quirked into a mischievous smile. “That’s what I wanted to show you all.”
Chapter Fourteen:
Memories in Dreamland
“I want to show you the one thing I can do that very few other people can do, but first,” Rachel looked at her friends very seriously, “I need you to promise me that you won’t tell anyone. I hate it when people know. They…get funny.”
Actually, Rachel herself had never had any trouble with people learning about her memory. She didn’t know enough people outside her family and close friends for it to matter. However, her mother had emphasized so emphatically how important it was to keep her memory secret—telling her dozens of stories of occasions where she had been put upon or embarrassed by others due to her gift—that Rachel felt great reluctance to tell anyone.
Zoë held up her hand. “Girl Scouts honor. Wait, you don’t know what that is probably. Yes, I will keep it a secret.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “I know what the Girl Guides are. We have Scouts in England.”
“Magical Scouts?” asked Sigfried.
Rachel nodded solemnly.
Joy and Valerie also promised to keep her secret, though Joy grumbled about the number of things she could not tell her sisters. Nastasia, Sigfried and Lucky already knew.
“Look.” Rachel tipped her head back and remembered.
The landscape around them changed. They stood on the windy top of Gryphon Tor, with moors stretched out beneath them. To the left, far below, lay Gryphon Park mansion. To the right, in the distance, rose the giant’s chair upon Dartmoor. Behind them were the ruins of the original castle built in 878.
Rachel recalled again. The scene changed. They stood at the foot of the Roanoke Tree, the enormous, skyscraper-tall trunk, with its seven different types of branches, that grew on the northernmost part of the island. Since the scene came from Rachel’s memory, the tree was as her memory had recorded it, with golden light curling like flame around the branches. The mouths of the other girls opened in awe. Even Sigfried made a noise of wonder. Gazing up, even Rachel herself was struck anew by the sense of sacred glory.
“I remember this tree, but where did all that fiery gold-stuff come from?” asked Sigfried. “Did it get hit by lightning? That’s wicked cool!”
“That’s what the tree looks like in my memory,” Rachel explained. “Sometimes, I can see things when I remember back that I can’t see with my normal eyes.”
“Wait. I remember when we were here, you asked that El…” Joy cut o
ff what she was about to say. Nastasia was glancing at her sharply. Joy blinked for a moment and then continued. “You asked about your memory, and you freaked out when you accidentally crossed the wall. So, what’s so special about your memory anyway?”
Valerie flashed a photo of the marvelous tree left-handed. She paused for a moment. Then, her eyes widened. “This is the first time I’ve taken a photo in dreamland, and it hasn’t washed everything out. Everything is so crisp. I can make out individual leaves and grass blades. A policeman could gather evidence from this scene. In fact…” She pressed her lips together. Then, she turned to stare at Rachel. “You have photographic memory, don’t you?”
Rachel nodded, her lips curled into a tiny half smile.
“Really? You mean you remember everything perfectly?” squealed Joy. “Show us…us.”
“If you like.” Rachel thought back.
The landscape changed again. They stood in the center of the commons in the semi-darkness. A huge silvery moon shone overhead. Fallen leaves swirled beneath their feet. In front of them, was the scene as Rachel remembered it from the previous night: Zoë stepping from the mist with Siggy and Lucky behind her. Valerie, Joy, and Nastasia running toward her, panting.
The others gawked, pulling this way and that in order to move the group toward the dream version of themselves, as they each examined their dream-selves.
“I could not possibly be that fat!”
“I’m a lot thinner than I expected.”
“Did you have to make me look so goofy?”
“Hey! Look at me! I’m one good-looking bloke!”
Only Nastasia had made no comment. She stood composed between the others, glancing around the dreamscape.
Finally, she said, “It does look as I remember it. Well done, Miss Griffin.”
“Where are you?” Joy looked around. “I only see us.”
“I cannot see myself,” Rachel explained. “So I have no memory of what I look like, except when I happen to glance down at my hands or something like that.”
“Ah, that makes sense,” Valerie agreed. She snapped a picture, her flash momentarily blinding everyone. “It will be interesting to see if these pictures come out differently from the ones taken in other people’s dreams.”
“Why didn’t everything change when you used your flash?” Joy asked.
“Flashing a light at me right now doesn’t change my memory,” Rachel replied.
“Does anyone else find this whole thing truly creepy?” Valerie gestured with her camera at the landscape around them. “I for one have dreams—nightmares, many of them—that I would not want anyone to see. Ever.”
“Dreams are weird,” Zoë agreed. “But you get used to it. I don’t judge anybody by what they dream. Who knows why it is there? And, besides, it doesn’t really mean anything. A guy can dream about one naked girl, and that’s not even the girl he likes. You can’t make anything of them.” She paused and then added, “What creeps me out is Griffin’s memory. So, you remember everything? Every stupid comment we make? Every mistake we hope nobody will ever see?”
Rachel nodded.
“What a bummer,” muttered Zoë.
“Oh, I get it,” cried Joy, “That’s why you know crazy things like the number of pigs to burn a castle or the ridiculous names Siggy called us all!”
“Yes,” said Rachel.
“Hey, everything I say is worth remembering,” replied Siggy, who was still admiring the dream-statue of himself.
Valerie’s eyes lit up. “Can you imagine how useful a trait that would be in witnesses? If they could tell the police every detail they observed. If there are any crimes committed, Griffin, I want you to be there and be our eyes.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” replied Rachel.
“And homework! Oh my gods! You must be great with homework!” Joy gasped. “You remember everything the teacher says! Will you help me with mine? I took the worst notes in true history class yesterday!”
Rachel sighed. There it was, exactly what her mother had warned her about—people trying to avoid doing their own work by relying on her memory. She wondered if she had made a mistake in revealing her secret.
They wandered around examining themselves a bit longer. Rachel felt grateful that she had chosen to be the one they bedazzled. She didn’t have to stand still and hold hands. She was free to wander, since it was her dream, and she didn’t need to stay near Zoë.
“What are those guys doing?” Valerie pointed off into the distance. Following her finger, Rachel realized that her memory had recreated the whole scene from the previous night, including the upperclassmen standing watch at the edge of the reflecting lake.
“Guarding the materials undergoing degossamerization, I assume,” Rachel replied.
“Oh, you assume it’s de-gopherization?” Sigfried nodded sagely. “And why is that? Why not assume de-badgerization? De-hedgehogization? Or de-weaselization?”
All the girls started giggling.
“Degossamerization, you silly!” cried Joy. She moved closer to Siggy, gazing up at him with such a blatant simper that Rachel had to glance away in embarrassment.
Valerie gave Joy a steady look. “Please don’t elbow my boyfriend, even if he exasperates you. I don’t want to fall out of dreamland yet again.”
“Oh. Right.” Joy’s cheeks turned pink.
“Degossamerization,” Rachel repeated. “It’s the process for making conjurations and alchemical talismans permanent.”
“They’re not permanent?” Sigfried asked.
Rachel blinked. How could he have been in art and science classes for over a month now and not have picked up on that?
Patiently, she said, “Conjurations vanish after twenty-four hours and alchemical talismans only last a month…unless they are put out under the light of the full moon for a certain amount of time. They need moonlight on all sides, so the normal practice is to put them in glass cases over a mirror or a silvery surface, such as the bottom of the reflecting lake. The water is supposed to help amplify the effect. We have a little reflecting pool on the roof at home.
“Anyway, once a month, when the moon is full, all the conjurers make stuff they’d like to keep, and the alchemists bring out the talismans they want to make permanent—and they put them in the moonlight.”
“Then by morning, they’re real?” asked Sigfried.
The Wiseborn, Rachel, Joy, Zoë, and Nastasia, all shook their heads simultaneously.
“Takes thirteen months,” said Zoë.
“That’s thirteen full moons in a row,” clarified the princess. “Thirteen full moons—a year from the moon’s point of view—makes them permanent. It takes a great year to make something truly real—so that a conjured object is indistinguishable from the original.”
“In a row?” asked Valerie, “What happens if they miss a month?”
“Then all the work is for naught,” replied Nastasia. “The conjuration vanishes. The talisman loses its power.”
“That sucks,” said Valerie. “What happens if it’s overcast?”
“That’s what enchanters are for,” replied Rachel.
When Valerie and Siggy looked puzzled, she added. “Remember how we are learning to make a wind in music class? Eventually, we’ll learn how to clear clouds from the sky.”
“What’s a great year?” asked Siggy. “A year when everything goes right for you?”
Joy giggled. “No. Silly. That’s a fantastic year. A great year is something else entirely.”
“Eight years,” Rachel replied. “The amount of time it takes the moon to come back to the same point in the Zodiac.”
“That’s a long time!” Siggy scowled. “Hasn’t anyone found a way to speed this up?”
“Nope,” replied Zoë. “You just have to live with it.”
“Actually,” Rachel began. The others looked at her. “Analysis of Ouroboros Industries, of how quickly they retool their products, such as Flycycles or Thundersticks or slendering rings, shows
that O.I. can respond to market changes much faster than the eight years it should take, considering the quality of their workmanship.”
“Um…you know this how?” Zoë asked dubiously.
“My father’s an Agent with the Wisecraft. They investigate such things.”
“Oh! Agent Griffin. Right. The guy Merlin Thunderhawk is based on.”
“Merlin Thunderhawk!” boomed Sigfried. “What a great name!”
“He’s a character from James Darling, Agent. Kind of like Batman, only with magic,” said Zoë.
“I confess to knowing very little about comics,” said the princess, “But he did look rather impressive when he came in the window last night, with his cloak flying around him.”
“Neat! He looked wicked cool!” cried Sigfried. “And he saved our as…bacon, too!”
Rachel did not say anything, but she beamed. She loved her father so much. She was glad that she had been able to save him, twice. She could not wait for him to come see her, so she could tell him what really happened.
Siggy turned to her. “Show them!”
Rachel recalled the moment. Stone walls leapt up around them. Above, the glass of a high window shattered. Through it leapt Agent Griffin. His Inverness cape billowed about him like the dark wings of a falcon. He aimed his long fulgurator’s staff at the heart of the robed Mortimer Egg. Crackling white-gold flame leapt from the fist-sized gem at the tip of Ambrose Griffin’s staff and struck Egg’s chest.
Rachel froze the scene.
“Wow!”
“Ace!”
“He’s…really cool!”
“Okay,” Zoë drawled after a moment. “Maybe Merlin Thunderhawk isn’t an exaggeration. Griffin, your dad’s hot!”
Rachel blushed but she beamed with pride.
“What’s that?” asked Valerie, pointing.
Rachel turned her head. The scene around them stretched to the edge of her vision. Then there was darkness. Her memory did not fill in what she had not seen. Right at the edge of the scene hung something she did not recall from the first time around.
A gigantic wing hung in the air, cut off, because it left the edges of Rachel’s vision, before it reached the shoulder of whatever kind of being to which it might have been attached. The wing reached eight or nine feet into the air and was made of curling smoke. The smoky feathers were composed of shades of gray—pearl gray, dove gray, steely gray, charcoal gray. Those shades formed an eye pattern, as if someone had plucked the tail of a giant peacock formed of cloud and soot and formed them into the shape of a giant wing.
Rachel and the Many-Splendored Dreamland (The Books of Unexpected Enlightenment Book 3) Page 18